Free The Valiant Women by Jeanne Williams Page B

beguilements like that now, what would he say when he was back on his feet? Casting the brash youngster a stern look, Shea said consolingly to Socorro, “You’ll learn,” and changed the subject back to ranching, fascinated with the size of the herds, the size of the ranches, the vastness of everything.
    Santiago told him that in the last century, Don Antonio’s grandfather had been granted, for services to the crown of Spain, one sitio de ganado mayor , place for large animals, of about 4,330 acres. He had later acquired other sitios , including several to the north which had been abandoned when Mexico, after 1821 independent of Spain, hadn’t been able to protect the frontiers. Don Antonio’s elder brother, Narciso, had inherited the main ranch with a fine house and furnishings and now he would take over his dead brother’s holdings.
    â€œHow far away is your uncle?” Shea asked.
    â€œDon Narciso? He wouldn’t like me to call him Tio! Oh, a day’s riding would take one to his portal . Not that I intend to go!”
    â€œBut he has to be told about Don Antonio!”
    â€œHe’ll learn in time. His grief will be soothed by controlling more land and cattle.”
    â€œSurely he’ll give you part of what was your father’s!”
    â€œTo ‘the Apache heathen’ as he calls me?” Santiago mocked. “My father always intended to give me a start when I married, but I was in no hurry for that.” He brooded a moment, then laughed. “I can’t do anything about the land, but I can run off some cattle, seguramente! What do you say, Don Patricio?” This was the style of address he had adopted for Shea. “Would you like to help me rustle cattle?”
    â€œWhere would you put them?”
    â€œWe could sell them to the presidios at Tubac or Tucson, but I think—” Santiago’s glance rested a brief caressing moment on Socorro. “I think we all need a home. Why don’t we take over one of the abandoned sitios my father owned? I have been to the one southeast of Tubac along Sonoita Creek. Good water, trees and grass. It was once a visita , or outpost mission, but was auctioned when the government sold off church lands.”
    â€œIf your Uncle Narciso is so stingy, what’ll he say about that?”
    Santiago smiled lazily. “The place has been abandoned for over twenty years. I can’t think that Don Narciso, who spends most of his time in Hermosillo, both from fear of Apaches and love of society, will even remember those sitios as long as there are Apaches.”
    â€œSo how do you imagine we’d survive?”
    â€œFace it, Don Patricio! No part of northern Sonora or New Mexico or Chihuahua is safe. Look at what happened here. I would prefer to die in greener country with more water!”
    â€œWhat do you think?” Shea asked Socorro. “Are you sure you don’t want to return to Alamos?”
    â€œVery sure. After the Areneños , I can’t worry much about Apaches.”
    â€œThey’re said to take women for slaves.”
    She smiled, steel beneath it. “I wouldn’t be one long. This rancho, Santiago, how is it called?”
    â€œAgua Linda. Pretty Water. But we’ll give it a new name. Socorro.”
    She flushed. “Oh, no! Agua Linda is a nice name!”
    â€œBut ‘Socorro’ has greater meaning. Don’t we hope the place will succor us, as you saved Don Patricio and me? Why not give it a name that will mean ‘refuge’?”
    â€œI like it,” Shea said.
    What he didn’t like so much was that Santiago had suggested it. But after all, except for legalities, the sitio belonged to him.
    Socorro’s nursing, the agave poultices and a tough young body soon put Santiago on the mend though it looked like some clawed beast had torn out a piece of his thigh.
    â€œIf you wear your trousers tight, you’ll have to use a pad,”